July 4th, Highland Park, IL.

Mandatory Credit: Photo by TANNEN MAURY/EPA-EFE/Shutterstock (13017697o) Law enforcement officers investigate the scene of a mass shooting at a 4th of July celebration and parade in Highland Park, Illinois, USA, 04 July 2022. A gunman opened fire as people gathered to watch a Fourth of July parade in Highland Park, Illinois, killing at least six people and injuring dozens. Highland Park, Illinois, USA 4th of July parade shooting - 04 Jul 2022

“Mommy, I can’t sleep.” 

How many times did my daughter quietly awaken me as a young child with those four words? Her tiny voice punctured the fog of slumber as my mind would straddle dueling thoughts; I’m going to be so exhausted at work tomorrow…. At least I get to catch up on snuggles with Emi.. 

We would  stumble down the hall to her room, climb into her bed, and I’d drape my arms around her sweet little body while stroking her halo of curls. I always  marveled at how she could slip into a deep sleep within minutes. We used to call it Mommy Magic. My mere presence was enough to combat any thunderstorm, power outage, or monster.

My daughter just turned 16 and it’s been years since I’ve slept by her side. That all changed on July 4, 2022 in my beloved town of Highland Park, Illinois.

“Mom, there’s been a shooting at the Highland Park Parade. My friends are texting me from there. Where’s Emi?“ my 19-year-old son shouts as I emerge from having just showered. 

Emi is a camp counselor for the Highland Park Park District and had to help with Fourth Fest. The camp staff was split; some being assigned to the parade and others to Sunset Park (where the parade ends) to work the carnival. 

Panic cascades through me. 

My Emi. She’s there.

I call Emi, but she doesn’t pick up. 

I call my husband, who has  just left for the grocery store. “Have you heard from Emi?” 

“I texted her. She’s driving home now. I was going to go get her, but she was already driving home.” I feel some relief, but I need to see her, to touch her, to kiss her. I need her in my arms.

I race down the stairs in my robe, still sopping wet as my son follows me in his pajamas. 

“I talked to Dad, Emi is on her way home.”

I turn on the TV, but no network has picked up the story yet. My phone is already blowing up with texts from friends; mass shooting at Highland Park Parade, people are down, shooter is armed and on the loose 

I just stand in my den, pacing in my bathrobe, my mind spinning…

Why did I tell  emi to be a camp counselor? We should have bought that house in Deerfield…why did we buy this house?  Why do we live here?

I think about the millions of different choices I could have made that would not have placed Emi at Sunset Park this morning. My son is looking at me in disbelief. I try to say something comforting, but I have no words.

The garage door opens. My son and I fly outside, not caring that we aren’t dressed. We’re both screaming. “Emi, Emi, get in the house!” She runs to us and I quickly lock us inside.

Emi is crying. I’m crying. My son and I envelop her in our arms and sway, just holding each other. Emi tells us they were all setting up waiting for the parade goers to arrive when swarms of people started running toward the park screaming. The staff were all ushered into the tiny park shelter. After about ten minutes, they were told to walk to their cars in small groups and go home.

My husband arrives home and we sink into the couch. Our eyes ricochet between our phones and the TV. The texts are rolling in at avalanche speed. The news has hit the airwaves and friends around the country are checking on us. 

My friend’s name flashes across  the television. She is giving a phone interview explaining how she heard shots at the parade, ran into a parking garage, and hid under a car. My friends are simultaneously texting about her interview while it is airing. We’ve all been together since our boys were little. Everyone reports their children are safe. Thank god my boys are okay. Yes, I know they’re 19 and scattered across the country at different colleges. I know some of them drifted apart over the years, but these are still  my boys- all of them. These are my boys who piled in the car for a trip to Dairy Queen, who celebrated big wins at Walker Bros, and who ran around Port Clinton Square after Little League. Images of these precise locations are being broadcast around the globe.The glass windows at Walker Bros. are shattered and witnesses are on my television explaining how they hid behind (and inside) dumpsters at Port Clinton Square. 

One gut-wrenching clip that keeps looping on TV is of the Highland Park High School Marching Band running down Central Street away from the gunfire. I know these kids. One of them has been Emi’s best friend since they were two. I have to check on my girls; Emi’s tight-knit group of besties. My girls who I took to Ross’s for overnight camp swag and nail polish. My girls who I drove for impromptu trips to Sweet Home Gelato. The girls whose families and I went to the parade and carnival every single 4th of July for years. My girls who, in the past, posed for pictures on the parade route right where people were just shot dead. A quick text to my friends tells me everyone is physically okay. 

The hours pass. I haven’t eaten. I haven’t gotten dressed. I’m just glued to the television. My kids sit on either side of me. We keep clicking on network after network and see our quaint little downtown street cluttered with abandoned lawn chairs, strollers, and  FBI agents.

I scroll through the endless stream of Facebook posts. I know so many people who were there. The stories are horrifying…

We were running for our lives…it was like a scene from a movie…it was a warzone… we were directly under the gunfire and ran for cover… Everyone was running so fast

I can’t run

I’m physically disabled. If I were there, I would not have been able to run. Before I can pull the words back in, I blurt out, “If god-forbid we are ever in a situation like this. I need you to  both promise me you will not stop to help me. I will slow you down. Please promise me you’ll run like hell and don’t worry about me.”  My son and daughter look at me in shocked horror. 

The shooter is still on the loose, but they just released his identity. Oh god, it’s a former Highland Park High School student. My kids’ phones are relentlessly beeping to the rhythm of  the helicopters flying over our house. We sit. We watch the news. We text our shell shocked friends and neighbors.

Hours pass, they catch the shooter. The news slowly shifts to other topics. Everyone but me goes to bed. The sky opens and the rain is tumbling down in sheets. Thunder rages. Lightning sparks. Someone up there is just as pissed as we are.

“Mom, I can’t sleep.”

“Come on sweetie, I’ll sleep in your bed tonight.”

Emi doesn’t fall asleep. We toss and turn together and let the sadness and anger consume us.  We know we are beyond fortunate. We know some of our neighbors will never again experience the comfort of lying next to their mom or dad. We think about the sweet little toddler who we will learn the next morning lost both his parents. We ache over the unthinkable losses in our community. We wonder at the randomness of it all. We can’t stop thinking of the boy who was taken to the University of Chicago Hospital in critical condition. Sleep will not come.  My mommy magic is gone and I can no longer ward off the monsters. 


  1. Wow! As usual beautifully written Lisa. My prayers are with you, your family and community. I hope Emily is going for counseling at the high school or somewhere else. Love ❤️ To you all!


  2. Thank you for your gift of articulating many of my own thoughts about that day. I am so sad about this and about what is happening in our country. Until we can come to terms with the millions of guns, with the irrational hate and anger in this country, we will have to experience these awful events over and over. I pray our country can survive it.


  3. Lisa, what an amazing description of the horrific events of July 4, 2022. We live so close to Highland Park, we sheltered in place all day, glued to the tv, fearful the shooter would come to our village since we are right off the highway. It was such a surreal experience, we will never be able to forget it either. But, we weren’t there, didn’t know the community like you and your family do. I can assure you, however, that come November, we will be voting for candidates who support strict gun control and who will be prosecuting offenders to the fullest extent of the law!!!


  4. My heart aches for you and the people of Highland Park. Your story makes me weep because my partner of 21 years used to tell me if something happens, don’t worry about me, just run. I lost her to complications of Scleroderma in October. My heart goes out to you. ❤️Jan Silk

    Sent from AT&T Yahoo Mail for iPad


  5. May the memories of those who didn’t make it be only a blessing. May the survivors, those who were present and those like you who are part of that beautiful community have a refuah shlemah in mind and body and may none of us forget the horror and all of us continue the work necessary to stop this gun violence. (just to place who I am I have been following you a long time, I’m college friends with Gregg Hollander )


  6. This should be published in a newspaper. My niece must have been with Emily. Also a camp counselor and was at the same place. She is nervous to leave the house. Thinking of you all.

    Sent from my iPhone



  7. thank you for sharing this gut-wrenching story and I am so glad your family is safe. I don’t know what else to say, but when is this crazy violence going to stop? My condolences to any of your family and friends who lost someone that day.


  8. Thank you for writing this powerful testimony, Lisa…. I’m so grateful that all in your family and all in your boys’ and girls’ families are physically safe. And, I’m so heartbroken for the HP community, for all those who have lost friends or loved ones, for all those who have been traumatized by this horror. I’m sending prayers for healing, strength and courage as you navigate these devastating and heartbreaking waters…


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